


Now You Try on Calling Me Baby Like Trying On Clothes

by unsp00kable



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Religion, Sexuality Crisis, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsp00kable/pseuds/unsp00kable
Summary: Takes place in 1933 when Steve is 16 and  Bucky 17.Bucky is struggling with his feelings for his bestfriend and finally confronts them head on with Steve.(LOTS of handholding :3 plus Im bad at tagging and summaries just read please <333)





	Now You Try on Calling Me Baby Like Trying On Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> So uh I watched the A4 trailer and wrote this in 1.5 hours. 
> 
> God I just need Steve and Bucky to be happy. 
> 
> I dont own these characters and all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Yes, the title is from a Taylor Swift song

Although Bucky dropped out of school last year at 16, he swung by the Rogers’ apartment every evening when he got off his shift.

Since Sarah works such odd hours as a nurse at the nearby hospital, sometimes from sunup into early the next morning, Bucky comes and goes to see Steve as he pleases.

Steve still goes to school still, although he resents it.

“If Bucky got to drop out to help his Ma put food on the table then why can’t I do the same?” Steve would start at least once a week, usually over supper.

Looking over her cool glass of water with her eyes the color of the Irish Sea, Sarah Rogers would look at her boy and give a sideways smile.

“Thankfully I don’t need you to do that for me. Aye, what about art school?”

It was usually around that time that Bucky would usually join them at the table, ending that conversation.

On this particular September evening though, Steve had just gotten in from school, reading the note his mother usually left for him saying she’ll be back in the morning.

He was toeing off his shoes with his white school shirt unbuttoned, muscle shirt showing when Bucky burst through their rickety front door, the last taste of summer rays on his skin. He must’ve gotten off work early from the docks, Steve thought, taking in Bucky’s appearance of rolled up work sleeves and frizzy hair.

“Well hello there Speedo!” Steve drew the syllables out, mocking their neighbor from Texas who always gave Buck shit for always rushing around the halls.

Bucky’s usual automatic response to that is, “Howdy there sunny boy!”

Steve and Bucky’s friendship always has been great. From sneaking swigs from Sarah’s hidden bottle of liquor since they were 13/14 to sitting through mass every Sunday at St.Anne’s for as long as the two boys can remember. They had each other’s back no matter what kinda shite the other got themselves into.

They really were nearly joined at the hip. It’s been this way ever since Bucky was in the first grade. But ever since Bucky had started high school and even now that he’s dropped out, Steve can sense there’s something wrong. He knows Bucky and can see the hint of stress that he carries in his shoulders and holds in his eyes.

It’s only gotten stronger over the years. Every time Steve asks about it Bucky rattles off some story about his mother getting on to him or some random thing.

That’s another thing- they can’t bullshit each other.

So when his friend doesn’t respond with a hick greeting, Steve gets goosebumps despite the Brooklyn warmth streaming in where Bucky still stood in the doorway.

The Barnes boy’s knees begin to shake, just slightly.

Bucky thought he could do this. This- confronting his best friend about something that’s worried him to his breaking point.

Swallowing a lump of strength, Bucky said, “Steve we need to talk.”

Readying for himself for whatever might come out of Bucky’s mouth, Steve walks over to the threadbare couch in the living room. Composing himself Bucky follows him, slightly bouncing when he sits down a little too hard.

Steve spends a good chunk of his life sketching like the artist he is. So it’s no wonder the mere act of gripping charcoal in his hand comforts him. It’s familiar, unlike the frazzled Bucky in front of him that undoubtedly smells like fish and sea water.

Sitting down with his back against the armrest facing his friend and his legs tucked under him, Steve thought of drawing. But watching Bucky work his jaw, he thought otherwise. Instead he stretched out his legs over Buck’s lap, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

It seemed to do the trick.

“Steve we can’t do this.”

He was using a low wet tone Steve had never heard before and wasn’t meeting his eyes.

Confused as ever Steve stupidly asked what he meant.

_“This.”_

Looking down Steve sees their intertwined fingers, his own thumb smearing charcoal on the back of Bucky’s muscular hand.

Right. The hand holding thing.

Steve doesn’t know when it began but he also can’t help it. The further it felt like Bucky was drifting from him, the harder he had to hold on, even if it did risk exposing the feelings he’s been harboring for years.

Looking back up, Bucky’s face is turned towards him. Meeting his eyes was like looking into a gray storm- exposed and reeking with havoc. It’s the most passion he’s ever seen from Bucky and that’s saying something.

“ _I_ can’t do _this_.” Bucky corrects himself from earlier, gently taking Steve’s legs off his lap.

Bucky’s a pacer.

“Gee I wish I knew what you’re talking about Buck. Would you mind elaboratin’ genius?” Not even Steve recognizes his own shaky voice.

Bucky turns to look at him from across the room, hands on his hips.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

The thing is, Steve does. His blush rises with his temper as he’s realized he’s finally done it.

He’s finally fucked up their friendship.

It’s not that they’ve ever talked about their views on homosexuals, let alone the prospect of Steve himself potentially being one. It’s just not done, unheard of. Steve knows what the Bible and God says about it. But he doesn’t know what Bucky thinks about it. He has no other option but to think Bucky feels the same as the church does, because Bucky is a good man and that’s what good men believe. Although Steve doesn’t agree with those views, he can’t blame him.

God, he never could hold a grudge on Bucky, could he?

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose for a few seconds and walks towards the couch. He crouches down in front of where Steve sits.

“Steven Joseph Rogers I can’t do this to you. I won’t damn you to hell because of me.”

Steve blinks his eyes a few times. He knows he’s deaf in one ear, but his hearing usually isn’t this bad.

“What are you saying Buck?”

Guilt floods Bucky’s face, turning to sit on the floor with his back against the couch.

He just couldn’t watch Steve’s face twist in disgust with what he was about to tell him. He just couldn’t.

“I’ve been dancing around this for a long time Steve, and I can’t anymore. I don’t know when this happened or why. But I can’t continue on like this...”

He trailed off sounding like a broken man. Swallowing with tears welling up in his eyes he feels Steve slide off the couch onto the floor next to him.

“...I’m not supposed to feel this way about my best friend. I can’t help that I do, and I hope you don’t feel the same because I sure as fuck ain’t gonna drag you down to hell with me.”

Steve hadn’t realized it but he was holding Bucky’s hand again, feeling it tremble from where it was placed between his own.

Steve really did try to keep his creeping anger out of his voice, but his Irish temper flared.

“What do you mean you hope I don’t feel the same? What if I do, what are you going to do about it Buck?”

Bucky felt himself go numb, breaths turning shallow with the prospect of Steve liking him back. He has to burn those flowers of hope before they grow too strong.

“Because we can’t-“

“Why the fuck can’t we? Don’t you think I should be able to make my own decision in this and let me damn myself to hell? Buck, what gives you the right to decide all of this-“

Bucky turns to look at him with tears streaming down his face, eyes on fire.

“There’s a ball of guilt in my chest that grows whenever I’m with you. I don’t feel it when I’m with you because you make me so fucking happy but as soon as I leave, I can barely breathe Stevie. When I am around you all I can think of is how good it feels when you hold my hand and how bad I want you. It’s so twisted and evil that my first kiss was with Claire Dobrev and the whole time I pretended it was you. “

Steve sat staring at their hands once again as Bucky took a shaky breath before continuing.

“I can’t do this to you.”

Trying to calm down, Steve counts and recounts the scars on Bucky’s left hand from punching so many meatheads in the mouth for Steve.

“Bucky, what about your wants? What about your soul? Surely you don’t believe God will send you off to hell for this?”

His friend gives him a wolfish grin that, despite Bucky’s swollen eyes, set a flame in the pit of Steve’s core.

God help them.

“Steve every day since I realized I had a crush on you when I was 14 years old, I’ve prayed to God, begging Him to fix me. I’ve broken my own heart over and over because of it. There isn’t any real hope for me yet. But you Stevie, you’re special and literally living on a prayer. Lord forbid I fuck that up to.”

To keep himself from doing something stupid, Steve lays his head on Bucky’s shoulder, playing with his fingers.

He had no clue what’s going to happen from here. He knows there’s no way that they can go back to normal after this. Truth is they haven’t been normal for a while now though.

But that’s okay, they don’t have to have everything figured out yet.

Looking up from where his head was on Bucky’s shoulder, their eyes met once again. Steve couldn’t help but grin goofily. He’s always wanted to sketch Bucky from this angle, but he’s never been able to do it just right since he couldn’t get _this_ close to him.

Steve set himself to memorizing all the angles and shadows of Bucky’s face like this. At 17 Bucky is more man than boy, and Steve’s had to relearn how to draw his face so many times as it matures.

One thing that’ll never change though is Steve’s fondness for Bucky, which isn’t so one sided as he originally thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Cry and scream with me over theories- my twitter is @notunsp00kable also my DMs are always open if anyone needs to talk!! (Those aren’t o’s In my @, they’re zeroes) [Follow @notunsp00kable](https://twitter.com/notunsp00kable?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> I believe when Steve says Rumlow made him feel like a 16 year old boy from Brooklyn he is thinking of this moment here. <33
> 
> ps if the gay anime Yuri On Ice!! is your cup of tea check out my other fics
> 
>  
> 
> comments/kudos appreciated <333


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